


GALLAGHER'S 13

by danjodoogal



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's Eleven (2001), Shameless (US)
Genre: Cons, Drama, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, Gen, Heist, M/M, Revenge, Scheming, Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2389853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danjodoogal/pseuds/danjodoogal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: The Gallaghers are a well-to-do family in north side Chicago, and they have a history in certain circles. With Fiona at the helm, they're known for pullings heists. Now that Fiona is finally out of prison, she has a plan. Nothing and no one is going to get in her way this time. In order for everything to go just right, she's going to need to get the whole band back together. It's going to be difficult and dangerous. The odds are stacked against them with Frank as the wild card. But if they succeed, it would be the heist of a life time. Six figures. And the satisfaction of taking down enemy number one: Jack Macmillan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. SIX MONTHS LATER

Slipping a hand into the pocket of her once tight fitting jeans, Fiona took her first steps outside the tall fence surrounding the Chicago State Penitentiary for the first time in six months. Her cloths felt funny on her, softer than her prison uniform, but different from how they fit before. Her sweater had a lingering scent of home that made her feel rather warm against the cool wind. She inhaled a long, deep breath, and gave a last glance over her shoulder at the gloomy building. Running her fingers through her messy head of dark hair, Fiona looked away. It was so damn good to be out.

The car that was parked in the u-shaped driveway at the entrance of the prison was meant for her, she knew it. It screamed Chicago North side, even in its rough shape. She followed the sidewalk along to it and laid a hand on the passenger side door of the sedan. Leaning down, the young woman managed a little, uneven scowl and peered over the glass of the window that was half down. “Who said you could pick me up in this piece of shit?” She gave the tire a little kick for good measure.

Letting herself into the car, she folded herself into the seat, drawing a foot up under herself. Her knee bounced up and down, but that was mostly from the cold. The lack of nicotine in her system may have been playing some small part too. She tilted her head to the side, peering at the young man sitting in the driver’s seat next to her, one hand laid casually on the steering wheel. While he was still young, he looked older than his years. He frowned back at her in his usual, dark stare, his face creased with months of time spent in a similar situation as Fiona had just left behind. A smoke was stuck between his lips, the end glowing. There was a cut on his cheek, nearly healed but still noticeable. It didn't surprised her.

“I don’t fucking see anyone else around to pick you up, do I?” Mickey Milkovich replied around the cigarette, before plucking it from his teeth. He let out a cloud of smoke. “Besides, got to keep a low profile. And my douchebag sister went fucking nuts with my Corvair.”

Fiona shook her head. “Who'd she take out this time?” she joked, still half serious. She didn't put very much past Mandy Milkovich. The girl was tough as nails, strong and stubborn as she was ruthless. Sometimes, she cared too much, if you asked Fiona. Mickey replied with a lopsided grin and sucked on his smoke again. "Some corner-owning pimp. Better not ask."

Fiona laughed, the sound almost foreign to her own ears. She sat back in her seat and looked out the front window, across to the parking lot of dark cars and prison vans. The silence sunk in for a moment. There was no clatter of plastic trays, no buzz of chatter, no clop of boots on cement floors. And the company she had, she had to admit, was better than any she'd had in the last half year. Mickey twisted the key in the ignition and the car gave a small roar, breaking the silence, before shooting off across the pavement.

Mickey's inability for small talk had Fiona’s mind moving fast. Six months she’d spent in the clink, six months without much contact with the outside world. She’d heard from her best friend, from her siblings, from her ex-boyfriend, even from her cop neighbour. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. She wanted to see her little sister, see how she'd grown and changed. She wanted to hug her little brothers tightly. She wanted to know her oldest brothers were doing okay, that they were clean and safe and happy. At least, that they were as clean, safe, and happy as possible given everything. She hated feeling like she'd left them in the lurch. It obviously wasn't her fault she'd gotten caught -- or, maybe it was. But she hadn't actually meant for this to happen. It was her fault, though, for dragging everyone into it with her. Guilt. She owed them so much.

“So tell me…” Fiona started as she reached over and snagged the cigarette box from the cup holder on Mickey’s side. Her voice was more casual than she felt. She flipped open the lid and caught a stick between her fingers, instantly feeling a little calmer. Damn nerves. “Debs. Carl. Liam. Lip. Ian.” She paused and looked pointedly at Mickey’s profile. “Where are they?” It wasn't so much a question as it was a demand for information. Mickey had to know that.

Mickey kept his eyes forward on the road, didn’t even respond with even a flinch. He made a sharp turn, clearly knowing where he was going. Fiona didn’t inhale so much as blink as she waited. She waited patiently for a moment, not daring to let her mind wander. It had wandered for practically six months. Had Lip gotten himself locked up for the scams he ran, stealing equipment from labs around the state? Had Carl finally lost it on some kid without anyone around to bail him out? Had Debbie managed to keep it together, get herself out of the system and into a nice lifestyle? Had she been able to track down Liam and keep him safe? And Ian… She couldn't guess. There were too many possibilities.

“We’re going to see your brother now,” Mickey replied after a moment, as if that settled all her questions and worry.

She looked at him. “Which one? Ian?” she opted for.

“Nah, the older one… Lip.”

She sat back in her seat. A Milkovich was only going to tell her exactly what he wanted to, and when. They were more stubborn than any Gallagher, which was saying something. She held out her hand expectantly, and a lighter fell into it after a quick moment. She nodded a thanks and lit the cigarette, now between her teeth. Two years ago, if someone had told her that Mickey Milkovich would be picking her up from prison, she’d have laughed. Funny how things changed, though.

Fiona looked over at him again, studying his face. “How’d you get away, Mick?”

He glanced over at her before flicking the butt out the window as he pulled up to a red light. “What makes you think I did?”

Fiona frowned and shook her head again. “Didn’t think you’d be the one here if they’d got you too.”

“Got three weeks. Found guilty of possession. Bailed out. Couldn’t get me on anything else though. It was too clean. Least we didn’t fuck everything up, huh?” He had a point. They always had an exit plan.

“Let you off early for good behaviour?”

“Overcrowding,” Mickey said with a short laugh. Fiona managed one too.

But the reality was that Mickey was getting on her nerves. She was thankful enough for Mickey coming to get her, but given the choice, she’d rather had Lip or anyone else there. They would have given her answers and shown her sympathy. They would have been asking her about prison, about how she’s feeling, about what her plans were now that she was out. They would have filled her in on everything that she’d missed. Mickey, on the other hand, didn’t give a single shit.

A ball of disappointment and frustration grew in her stomach. Guilt too. She knew should have called Veronica. If there was anyone she could have trusted to pick her up, fill her in, make her feel better, it was her long time best friend. Fiona had successfully missed the births of her nieces while she was doing time. V had needed her there, and she'd let her down. Fiona knew she had some serious making up to do, to both V and Kev. But something had held her back from calling V. Fiona had spent too much time on her own to dive right back into those relationships like nothing had changed. There were things she had to take care of.

Mickey was her partner in crime. Literally. Somehow, they’d come together over the same cause and made it all work. They were so completely different, but when their interests aligned, they made a dream team. No one could deny it. He was muscle, she was brain. He had connections and reputation, she had tactics and strategy. Some nights were screaming matches, others were quiet with thoughtful planning. He balanced her when she went a little crazy, and she had her ways of reeling him in when he crossed the line. They learned to bounce ideas off each other, back each other up when it came down to the wire. She trusted Mickey more than she actually liked him. And damn, they’d come so close. There had been so much at stake.

Both of them had been after Roberta Saunders. Mickey was after her drug scam, Fiona after her property. The woman had official (and unofficial) ownership of nearly a quarter of the businesses and residences in Chicago, and had her hands in the underground markets to boot. Everywhere Fiona tried to get ahead, Roberta was there to put up walls and block her. So she'd picked up the tools her father had given her and decided to go straight to the source of the problem. Knock down Roberta, score the land, cash in. 

“Mick, what happened to all the money?” Fiona asked quietly, her voice serious. Mickey let out a solid laugh at that, but it was one that she couldn't read.

She wasn’t as concerned about having the fifty thousand that had been thrown in the mix as she was about knowing where it went. It was meant for them to split evenly but everything fell to shit pretty quickly. She hadn’t asked Debbie where it went, and Carl didn’t seem to know, nor care from what she could tell the last time he spoke to her. But Mickey... Something told Fiona that he would know. And if he didn't, he would know some who knew.

Mickey glanced over at her. “You remember your dad, right?"  


Fiona's heart sank violently. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I think he's still got some coke left. He might share."

Fiona nearly screamed. She stuffed a balled up fist against her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. "I'm going to fucking kill him," she said, her voice raw but sure.

"Get in line." Mickey had had Frank's number for a long while.

She looked away, outside her window, and forced herself to take a long drag on her smoke. She'd planned for so much in the last six months. But she hadn't accounted for this. This was a whole other bag of shit. Revenge. Frank was going to feel it. She would make sure of it this time. This meant extra calculation, extra strategy. There was going to be collateral damage if she wasn't extremely careful. But she knew she had to focus. There was one target, first and foremost, one player that had a lot to pay for.

Fiona stretched out her legs, settling in for the ride. "You ever heard of Jack Macmillan?"


	2. UNDER THE RADAR

He slouched over the table of tubing and metal, a screw driver in one hand. He slowly began to twist it, tightening the hose clamp around one of the pieces of tube. The galvanized metal bent easily. An alan key set stuck out of his back pocket, a smoke was set behind his ear like a pencil. He focused intently for a few seconds on what he was doing, his eyes fixed and calculating.

A sharp zap sound came from behind, causing him to rise to his full height swiftly. He dropped his hands to his side, the screw driver dangling. A flicker of the lights was more than enough to cause alarm. “Oh shit.”

Lip crossed the room in a long few strides, arm extended. He whipped open the door of the fuse box on the wall and hit breaker without a second guess. The lights immediately shut off, the hum of the mechanics went quiet. “Fuck,” he sighed, staring out of the room.

He hit the switch after a little pause, and the room began to hum again. He looked up expectantly at the lights flicked on before navigating back to the work bench. He peered down at the spread of papers laid out, diagrams, maps, short calculations done swiftly. “Fucking algorithms and… Oh.” The answer had come clearer than he’d thought. It was there staring him in the face. Juice. He just needed more juice.

He turned around and leaned backwards against the desk, his eyes running over the scene before him. The modulator sat at one end of the long table in the centre of the room, connected to the magnetron, some switches, the scanner, amplifier and mixer. It was a mess, because he’d set things up hastily and without much real planning. He knew how things were supposed to go together, so he’d just done it without all the mucking about in paperwork. Besides, if he ran into something going wrong, he’d fix it out then. That was exactly what he’d have to do.

He strode over to the modulator, a long cylindrical roll of coil and attached to a glass case marked “thyratron” with masking tape and black ink. He dropped his hands to the table top and leaned down to look closely at it. “If the voltage is too low…”

“Gallagher!”

Lip stood up again, looking towards the only door in the room, the direction the shout came from. He froze on the spot, a frown on his face. He didn’t respond, but waited. If it was important, he’d be called again. Besides, he really hated being interrupted when he was working as he was.

“Lip Gallagher, get your ass up here! Someone here to see you!”  
He strode in the direction of the door with a few different possibilities weighing in his mind. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but Lip had long since believed in expecting the expected. He pulled the door open and let himself out the room and onto the landing of the bottom of the stairs. He shut to door after him and took the steps two at a time in his sock feet.

Mandy, with her long dark hair, held her brother in a head lock and was trying to keep from letting him wrestle her to the ground. She yelped as he stepped down on her toe, prompting a whack on the head. "You're wearing shoes, asshole!”

But Lip wasn't paying them much attention. Next to Mickey appeared none other than his own sister, Fiona in the flesh. His mind went blank. She was out.

“Who let you out of the pokey?” he shot at her, grinning crookedly, his eyes crinkling. She grinned back at him and stepped past the Milkovichs towards him. He met her half way, arms reaching out and pulling her into a tight hug.

“Good to see you too, Lip,” she said, her voice muffled in his shoulder. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the sister he hadn’t seen in nearly half a year. “You look good,” she said when she finally pulled away.

“And you look like shit,” he replied with his trademark grin.

“Not like there’s a fucking beauty salon in prison.”

“Get yourself a prison wife?”

“One or two.”

“Tramp.”

Fiona grinned and gave her brother a playful punch in the arm. Lip grabbed where she’d hit him, feigning a moan. “Prison made you fucking tough.”

“Made me smart too.”

At that, Lip fell silent. There was a look in Fiona’s eyes, one he’d really only seen once before. There was a hint of coyness, a touch of danger… And a plan. There was a plan unfolding and it was written, in part, for him. The last time she’d had that look had been two years before she’d been locked up. It had led to several months of small theft, design plans and maps, simulations and disguises, and, more importantly, a rallying of forces.

Lip looked over Fiona’s shoulder at Mickey and Mandy who were still shoving at one another. Mickey had brought Fiona here… How had he gotten into this so quickly? Why had Mickey been the one to pick her up? Had something already begun without him? “What’s the play?”

Fiona replied swiftly. “What’s yours?”

He shrugged and jerked a thumb behind him, towards the stairs. “Radars mostly, right now. I managed to get my hands on some designs from California Tech.” It hadn’t been terribly hard to get into their system. Not more than a wireless smash and grab job.

Fiona gave a little nod and glanced back towards Mickey who’d just let go of his sister’s hair.  
“Oh what, you’ve told him already? Shit, Fi, I know that look. I know you’ve got something in the works.”

“It’s big, okay. Really big. We’re going to need a big team, all the tech, positioned insiders, the whole thing.”

“Guns?” Lip looked to Mickey again, who seemed a little more interested in the conversation. The Milkovichs had a pretty extensive supply.

She shook her head again and fixed her dark eyes on Lip's. “When was the last time you were in New York?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going after stocks.”

“Do you have any beer?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

—-

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Fiona said again, setting down her nearly empty bottle on the coffee table next to them. Her voice lacked fight.

“Yeah, I know. But you’ve got to understand. It would have driven you to the edge,” Lip replied, mirroring her. He scooped her hands off the leather of the sofa, cupping them in his own. Her fingers were awfully cold.

“And you have no idea where he is?”

Lip shook his head and leaned against the back of the sofa. He released her hands and casted his eyes up at the ceiling. It was a white stucco pattern of swirls, designed like most of the living rooms in houses on the north side of Chicago. He found himself looking at it all too often: in exasperation, in despair, in his current state of unknowing.

Ian had been missing for nearly a month. He wasn’t exactly missing, like no one seemed to think he was kidnapped or anything like that. Lip almost refused to consider it. But it had seemed like he’d vanished off the face of the Earth. His cell phone was out of reach, going straight to voice mail after every call. He simply wasn’t on anyone’s radar.

Fiona hadn’t known. Lip had restrained Debbie and Carl from telling her just for her own safety. Mandy seemed apathetic, so much that Lip wondered if she was possibly hiding something. He'd done a little digging, but turned up empty. He had everyone he had connections with and could trust looking around. He didn't want the cops involved simply because that was not how things were done. North side boy missing would have the headlines. And if Ian was into some things that weren't technically legal, well, it would only make for more of a mess. This was to protect Ian. Debbie had first seemed to think it was just that Lip didn't care. It was far from that. She eventually understood.

There was only so much they could do. They'd found little leads, but nothing really led anywhere. Lip simply had to trust that Ian was safe and knew what he was doing. It wasn't easy but it was something. By Fiona's resolve, he knew she understood too. He was sure too that she was currently fighting her instincts to run after him, try and find him herself. The truth was, though, that Lip was battling that same instinct. He refused to let it show, simply because he knew it would worry everyone if he was worried. Deep down, Lip felt rather empty without his brother there. They'd been together through pretty much everything. And now everything was so different. 

"He'll be alright. Learned from you, after all," Lip said. 

"He's fucked then," she said sharply. "I just got out of prison." As if it wasn't apparent enough.

"Cheers to that," he said, and picked up his bottle again, clinking it against hers. "And that's why we shouldn't waste any time."

Fiona exhaled. Lip knew he was right, and knew that Fiona knew too. "You cover Carl. I'll get Debbie."

Lip nodded and looked over to the pair of Milkovichs, both clutching PlayStation controllers and battling very intently, both physically and virtually. "You two fucks are responsible for pizza."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving things along now, and excited to bring in more of the family! Hope you all liked the first chapter. Naturally, we had to talk about Ian a bit in this chapter. But we're slowly going to get a look into the lives of rich Gallaghers... Thanks for reading! <3


	3. WHAT'S THE TARGET?

There was a shrill scream before Fiona was hit full on by a short redheaded girl. Debbie wrapped her arms around Fiona’s middle, pressing her cheek against her sister’s chest. She clung to her, almost desperately, inhaling the scent of her older sister’s shirt. A small laugh from Fiona shook the pair of them, and she rested her chin against the top of Debbie’s head. They stayed like that for what was going to be too short a moment no matter how long it lasted. Slowly, Debbie pulled back a little, to look up at Fiona. A huge smile was plastered on her face, tears in the corners of her eyes.

“I didn’t know you were out today!” Debbie said, her voice disbelieving.

Fiona grinned. “Surprise?”

She laughed, but quickly forced a frown instead, backing away enough to whack her sister’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she said.

They stood in the middle of the Gallagher house, or rather what used to be the Gallagher house. Since the fallout after Fiona was hauled away, it wasn’t what it was when Debbie was growing up. The kitchen had often smelled of Fiona’s baked goods, or peanut butter sandwiches in the mornings. Even though they could afford lunches at school easily, Fiona still forced them to take her semi-healthy lunches anyways. Carl always dropped his in the garbage bin, but Debbie usually made an effort to eat it. Now though, there was not much of that going on at all.

Still, the kitchen was brightly lit with large windows, the sun shining through the clouds. It was on the messy side of things, but that’s how Debbie liked it. Technically, the house was still in Frank’s name — as far as she knew, anyway — but it had always just been theirs. Before everything went down, the house had been lively and noisy even in the dead of night. But since Lip had mostly moved out into his new place with his shop (or as he called it, his lab), since Ian had skipped town, since Fiona had been incarcerated… Well, that only left Debbie, Carl and Liam. Frank, while absentee at the best of times, was still her father, meaning she wasn’t going to be carted off any time soon. Besides, Lip knew how to work the system. He always pulled strings at the right moment.

The stainless steel appliances and the marble counter tops were littered with Liam’s drawings, school things of all sorts, and different lists and grocery items. A huge light fixture and ceiling fan hung above, swaying slightly as it spun. The room half opened up into a dining room, which was merely a long table with an assortment of chairs around it. As the family had grown, so had the dining set. Fiona had tried to do away with it once, but Debbie wouldn’t have it. Each chair was like a representation of its owner. Take that away, and the whole thing would fall apart. 

“I had to take care of some things, Debs,” Fiona said rather vaguely, which clearly wasn’t a good enough answer. 

Debbie let go completely, crossing her arms over her front, fixing her eyes in a very Fiona-like matter. She’d picked up more in ways of mannerisms than she had in looks. “More important than your family?”

“Of course not, Debs,” Fiona said with a little shake of her head. She reached down and brushed stray strands of hair from Debbie’s face. “I went to see Lip. He told me about Ian.”

Debbie’s face immediately clouded over with guilt. It was clear that she hadn’t been expecting that. In fact, she’d been expecting something very different. She’d jumped, perhaps too quickly, to the assumption that Fiona had immediately gone off to prepare for the next scheme, the next big plan of attack. It wasn’t just that she thought Fiona was going to go back to her ways, she was afraid that it would be so. The thought of Fiona getting herself into something again, possibly getting in trouble… It was more than enough to alarm the young girl. 

“He made me promise not to tell you, but I wanted to, Fi, I did,” Debbie said quickly, launching into a defence.

“Hey, no. I don’t blame you, I don’t,” Fiona said, bending down a little so that they were at eye level. “Lip was just trying to protect me.”

Debbie nodded, but didn’t say anything. She looked into her sister’s eyes, searching. Fiona had been in prison for so long. She’d been so afraid to go, to leave the family behind to fend for themselves. Fiona had looked after the family for as long as Debbie could remember. She was more of a mother than her own mother was. 

But now Debbie felt more like the mother. She’d been the one looking after Liam, keeping tabs on Carl, checking in with Lip. She’d been the one who refused to stop looking for Ian. She’d been the one making sure Frank wasn’t overdosing every night, making sure the press stayed off their trail as much as possible.

The Gallagher’s weren’t exactly famous or anything, but they were still a relatively well known name in Chicago. Peggy “Grammy” Gallagher, Frank’s mother and Debbie’s grandmother, had been quite the woman in her day. She’d been the ruthless and meticulous city clerk in name only; she’d always told Debbie that she had the mayor by the balls, and it was no lie. The mayor’s office was hers in every way except on paper. If there was a policy to be passed, it would only go through if she allowed it. If there was a scandal going down, she’d be the one covering it up. She hid behind the mayor in public, but behind closed doors, no one dared cross her.

She’d funnelled her first half a million out of the city in two months. From there, she only climbed to the top.

Very little was passed on to the family until just before she died. She left Debbie - unbeknownst to Fiona - a small journal of her stories, her strategies, and her stocks and shares that she’d invested in. They were Debbie’s and Debbie’s alone. They were for the future, and there was no way that Frank, Lip or even Fiona was going to get their hands on them.

Debbie knew Fiona was as smart and strong as she was dangerous. But Fiona was weak too, just like the weakness Debbie had seen in Grammy. Fiona wasn’t addicted to money or power, not even drugs like Frank. She was addicted to the rush of the heist. It had taken Debbie too long to realize it, but she knew it now.

“You used to be the one protecting us,” Debbie said.

Debbie swallowed hard, seeing the guilt appear in Fiona’s face. She hadn’t meant it like that. “I mean, you need to be protect to. We have to look after each other,” she corrected quickly.

Fiona pulled her into another hug, embracing her like a small child. She’d always had that maternal instinct. “Yes we do,” she managed. She pulled away again. “And that’s why I need to talk to you about something.”

Debbie looked up at her expectantly. 

“Is this about what you’re planning?”

Fiona blanched. “What?”

“Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t been planning something. Six months to think… I know you better than that.”

Fiona exhaled through her nose, a long sigh. “You do.”

“Well? What is it? How long will you get locked up for this time?”

“Debs, it’s not like that. I’ve thought this one through. We won’t get caught.”

“We?” Debbie repeated.

“Only if you want in. I’ll never make you do something you don’t want to.”

“There’s no changing your mind, is there?”

Fiona smiled. “Us Gallaghers are pretty stubborn, huh?” Debbie looked unconvinced. “The take, Debbie… You’d never have to worry about anything ever again.”

“What’s the target?”

“We’re talking six figures. We could go anywhere we wanted. I could finally show you France.”

“Fiona,” Debbie said seriously, not budging. “What’s the target?”

“Ixion Pharmaceuticals.”

“What?”

“And Mount Sinai General.”

“A hospital?” 

“And Lazarus Labs.”

“Fiona,” Debbie said, a mix of fury, fear, and shock in her voice. “Do you know what the hell you’re doing?”

“Yeah, I do,” Fiona replied, nodding. She stuck her hands in her pocket and turned partially away from her sister.

“Then do you want to tell me what the hell you’re doing?”

“Do you remember when those girls were picking on you a few summers ago?” Fiona asked, looking sideways at Debbie.

“Yeah.”

“And I told you that someday you’d be ahead of them, that they wouldn’t be anything compared to you? That you would learn from their mistakes?” Debbie nodded, looking at Fiona’s feet. “That’s what I’m doing, Debs. I’m learning from mistakes. My own.”

“I don’t really understand,” she replied, squinting at her sister.

“You will. Now tell me about Liam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sisterly love. Debbie is more than a child saint. She's just messed up in different ways than the others, more on the inside than outside. 
> 
> Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Horrendous accusations of inaccuracy?


End file.
